Who Knows What The Future Holds?
by MakeItLastForever
Summary: BA. 14 years ago, Angel left Sunnydale after Buffy’s seventeenth birthday with parts of the Judge to separate them. Now he’s back, only to find she’s moved on. Coming across resistance, he goes on to try to reintegrate himself into her life. Can he?
1. Chapter One: Boulevard Of Broken Dreams

**Author:** MakeItLastForever

**Disclaimer:** Characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy etc.

**Spoilers:** Up to Season 2 "Surprise"/ "Innocence".

**Pairings:** Buffy/Angel (major), Willow/Tara (mentioned)

**Rating:** T / PG-13

**Set:** 14 years after S2: "Innocence".

**Summary:** 14 years ago, Angel left Sunnydale _after _Buffy's seventeenth birthday with pieces of the Judge, intent on separating them. Now he's back, only to find she's moved on. Dealing with accusations from her former friends, he goes on to try to reintegrate himself back into her life. Can he?

**AN:** Angel didn't lose his soul when he slept with Buffy.

* * *

Who Knows What The Future Holds?

Prologue

"_Everyone wants a happy ending. Newsflash – no one ever gets it. I mean, who dies happy? Truly happy? Perfect happiness is extremely rare. Few people actually experience it. You're one of them, by the way. You're lucky we didn't put that little perfect happiness clause in your curse, 'cause that night on the Slayer's seventeenth birthday …well, let's just say I wouldn't be standing here talking to you._

_But if you trust your heart, if you believe in yourself, if you save the world, then maybe. Hey, no promises, but … maybe. Just maybe … you'll get your happy ending. One day." _

* * *

Chapter 1

**Sunnydale, Night**

A man stepped off the bus onto the pavement before him. He was stereotypical-looking: tall, dark and handsome with pale skin, dressed all in black. But he was not a stereotypical guy. After watching the bus drive off and head down the road towards the horizon where the rising sun was starting to appear, he turned and walked in the opposite direction, his awkward footsteps being the only sound in the silent night.

Angel knew he had to get inside quickly. The dawn was approaching and he didn't want to waste the last few years of hell he had gone through by being crispy-fried, especially when he was so close to seeing Buffy again. He knew he couldn't go to Buffy's house straight away – there would be no certainty that she would let him in after disappearing for over 14 years. He sighed and quickened his footsteps as he remembered vividly the last time he'd seen her, only minutes before he'd left Sunnydale for good. He remembered the shouts, the cries, the arguments. He remembered the tears, the kisses and the declarations of love as he told her he had to leave. He remembered his own declarations of love, his promises that he would be back as soon as he could.

He wondered how much she'd change. Not just through looks, but through her personality. Would she still be the same Buffy: quick-witted, forthcoming, laughing around with her friends? Doubtful. Time changed people. Angel had seen it happen. Had seen it happen to himself.

No, he would have to find someplace else to go. For now.

* * *

There was a resounding knock at the door, which woke Willow and Tara up with a start. Grumpily climbing out of bed, Willow walked through their apartment to the front door. "They'd better have an _incredibly_ good reason as to why they're battering down my door at 5:00am," She muttered to herself, trudging through the kitchen.

Opening the door, the last person she expected to see was an injured and thoroughly tired Angel standing on the other side. Cuts and grazes marred his skin – the occasional deeper, more serious cut standing out more prominently, around his neck and forehead. He looked tired … very tired. As if he hadn't slept in ages. His skin appeared even whiter than before, if possible. He attempted a weak smile at her, while leaning against the door post, and mouthing "hey" at her.

"Uh oh."

Tara wandered in from the bedroom to see who was at the door. She frowned as she didn't recognise the tall man standing before Willow, and was confused at Willow's shock at seeing him. She came up close behind Willow, and put her hand on her shoulder.

"Can I come in? Or ..or do you want me to go? It's just that dawn is…" Angel trailed off, looking at her in quiet desperation.

"Right. Yes. Of course. I-I invite you inside of my house." Willow suddenly said. She stepped back to let him limp in, as the rays of dawn approached the front door. He leaned against the wall, not sure if he was in a position to sit down in her home like an old friend. Which he wasn't really. An uncomfortable silence settled on the room, as nobody knew what to say.

To his immense surprise, Willow darted forward and gave Angel a tight hug. He patted her back awkwardly, and she let go of him just as quickly as she had hugged him. Stepping back a bit, she brought her hand whacking across his face. He reeled back in shock, holding his cheek, more surprised at the slap and how hard she could hit. "Ow! What was that for?" he asked, annoyed.

"Where the hell have you been, Angel?" glared Willow.

Tara grimaced as she heard who it was. 'Angel': she'd heard a lot about him from Willow.

"That," he said, "is a very long and complicated story, Willow…"

"Well, we've got all day. I'm listening." Willow said, looking at him expectantly and crossing her arms.

"Uh, sweetie, you've got work in two hours," reminded Tara, timidly.

"We've got two hours. I'm listening." said Willow, still staring at Angel.

"Where's Buffy?"

"Don't change the subject."

"But she _is_ the subject."

"So if she _is _the subject, then why you turning up now to see her? Fourteen years later?"

Angel looked down to the ground, feeling guilty. "Look, stuff got in the way, and I couldn't possibly…"

"Please. Tell me, Angel. What was so important that it made you leave the one you loved for over a decade?" Willow said, angrily.

Angel didn't answer.

"Did you ever really love her?"

"Of course, I did." Angel said at once. "And I still do. So, so much – you don't even know."

Willow could see immediately that he was being sincere.

"I do know." Willow said sighing and sitting down on the sofa. "Sit down, Angel. You look awful."

Angel walked slowly and across to the sofa and sank down into the cushions, groaning. Tara, knowing that she could be of no real help and wouldn't know half the stuff they were talking about, headed back to the bedroom, in order to leave them alone. Angel watched her as she left.

"That's Tara." said Willow, as if reading Angel's mind. "She's my girlfriend. We live together. Obviously."

"That's nice." He mumbled, not really knowing what to say. "What happened to … Oz?"

"Wolfie issues. Couldn't control it. Had to go."

"Huh?" said Angel, confused.

"Doesn't matter." Willow sighed, not wanting to get into Oz-problems. It was many years ago, and she was completely over him. "So …Where did you go?" She asked, her voice telling him that she was still cross.

"All over the place. Europe, mostly. Parts of Asia, … India."

"Wow. Far, then. Round the world, even." Willow leant back into the sofa. She looked at him, sharply, "And the … the Judge is ….?"

"Destroyed. Permanently. Through really powerful magics."

"And all that took, what? Fourteen years?" said Willow, incredulously.

Angel looked up at her. "No. Like I said, other stuff got in the way."

"Like?"

He sighed. "It's not important."

"On the contrary, I think it's probably very important. More important than Buffy anyway."

"It wasn't something you could compare to her on how important it was."

"What happened, then?"

"Fine. When I landed on the shores of Europe, old enemies came after me. Wanting to amend for Angelus' crimes. My crimes." He shrugged. "You know, it's why I came to America in the first place; to escape everyone who was after me. It's complicated – there's a lot of stuff. It just all built up, and time passed and… I don't know. I guess I don't have an excuse."

Willow just looked at him.

* * *

**Sunnydale, Early Morning**

Willow and Angel had been talking solidly for the last hour. He felt glad to talk to someone about everything that had happened to him, to see the face of someone who didn't want to curse him into the eternal flames of hell. Not immediately, anyway. But he couldn't fail to notice that Willow had been steering clear of talking about Buffy.

"Willow, how's Buffy?" he asked, suddenly.

"Why do you want to know?"

"I just … I-I want to see her." stumbled Angel, thinking it was obvious why he wanted to know how Buffy was.

"What makes you think she wants to see you?" Willow said, keeping her face neutral.

Angel stood up and walked a little way away from the sofa, fiddling. "Well, I guess she … probably doesn't. But, honestly, I'm past caring at this point." He turned round to look at her. "I need to see her, Willow. Just thinking about seeing her again is what's made keep going all these years. I love her." He started pacing. "She's everything to me, and I just need to see that she's ok. And if she tells me to go away, then I will. I'll never bother her again. But if she doesn't …"

"…Then you're hoping that you can maybe find someway back into her life." Willow said, simply.

He studied her face. "Is it so wrong? Am I being stupid to even think that?"

"No, I guess not." She shifted, uncomfortably. "You're just in love. And you can't help but hope that she feels the same way."

"So … do you think that … maybe…?"

"God, Angel, she's not here." Willow said, unable to steer clear of Buffy anymore.

Angel looked at her in surprise. "Yeah, I know, you said that you and Tara live here, not …"

"No, Angel. She's not here. She's not in Sunnydale, anymore. Hell, not in California anymore."

Silence.

"Willow, what do–"

"She left, Angel. Summer of '98. Not long after you did."

He stared at her in shock, his hopes being ripped away from him one by one, being replaced with dread and fear. "Where…where did she …"

"New York."

"W-what? I…I don-… Why?"

"Why'd you think?" said Willow, harshly.

Angel was taken back at Willow's harsh words. She saw him recoil, and immediately regretted it.

"Sorry." She whispered.

He sat down next to her, looking down to the ground. "No, it's-it's o…"

"Not okay, Angel. None of this is okay. She was hurt. Broken. Still hopelessly in love. And then again, there were other factors… problems."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't apologize to me."

"It's just… I figured she'd be here. And I knew she would be cross… hurt … angry … I just thought that she would be here. And I would deal with it." He could feel his voice breaking. "But now…"

Willow watched him. "Cross, hurt, angry – doesn't even begin to cover it."

He frowned, thinking. "I'm going to find her."

"Huh?"

"I'm going to find her." He said, standing up, determinedly. "If I want to see her, then I'm just gonna have to …I'm going to find her."

"I'm not sure that's…" Willow said, standing up.

"Where is she, Willow?"

"Angel, I-I –"

"Where. Is. She?" Angel asked, quietly, impatience evident in his voice.

"Well, New York, but-"

"Where in New York? I need details, Willow. Area, street name, apartment number."

Willow paused, knowing that Buffy would kill her. She sighed. "Brooklyn. 101 West End Avenue."

Angel headed for the front door, with Willow walking close behind him.

"Angel, sto-"

"You can't change my mind. I'm going to find her." He said, putting his hand on the doorknob.

"No, it's not that, it's just … SUNLIGHT."

He let go of the door handle quickly. "Shit!"

"You can't really find Buffy if you're the Vampire Torch." Willow said, pulling Angel back into the room.

"Dammit, I can't wait all day."

"Well, you're gonna have to. Not unless you want to-"

Angel held up his hand. "Please, no more me-walking-around-on-fire jokes."

"Ok." She noticed her girlfriend standing by the door, watching the recent commotion going on, with an amused smile on her face. That reminded her, "Oh crap, uh, Angel. Angel? Listen to me." Angel had resumed his original pacing about, not listening to Willow. "Angel, I have to go to work now, but please please promise me you'll be here when I get back. Wait until dark before you go off doing your knight-in-shining-armour thing."

"Yes, good … fine, you do that." said Angel, not really concentrating.

Rolling her eyes, Willow headed to the bedroom to get ready, with Tara following her.

Angel looked at the door. "I'm going to find her." He said to himself.

"_I'm going to find her."_


	2. Chapter Two: Sorry

Chapter 2 – So Far Away

"_You survived. Great. So what? You think it ends here? No, Angel, it doesn't end. It never ends. Destiny or Fate or God or… whatever "higher power" shit up there exists, they still have all these plans for you. For your future. I can only warn you of what your future holds – the choices you're going to make. Choices between the usual things - love, death, sacrifice etc. And, you know, you're a major part of humanity's future." _

"_But honestly, I have no idea what's going to happen. It's just one big, stinking question mark over your head, Angel. And, what you're supposed to do now? …Find her. The one you love. Find him. And stop him… You have to find it in your heart to do what is right, not for yourself or for the one you love, but for the world. This world is lying on your shoulders, Angel. Can you honestly bear that burden?"_

* * *

**New York, Night**

Angel stared up at the tall building before him. 101 West End Avenue, Brooklyn. Ignoring Willow's demands and leaving Sunnydale far behind, he had traveled across the continent to New York – traveling only at night, by buses and trains. During the sunlight hours, he had camped out at Motels: sleeping, thinking. It had taken him longer than he had thought it would, but truthfully, he hadn't noticed the days pass him by, his mind fixated on one single person.

Now he was here, literally a few metres away from Buffy. And he had no idea what he was going to say. So many ideas of heart-wrenching speeches and first words had crossed his mind, but he threw them all out. He knew they would all sound rehearsed … insincere. No, he just had to speak from his heart.

Just as he was gathering the courage walk up the front steps and ring the bell to get into the building, a tall, well-built man walked out of her building. His skin was a deep chocolate colour, and his head was cleanly shaven with a neatly trimmed moustache and beard. Following behind him was a somewhat lanky teenager with brown hair and pale skin. Angel watched them as they walked quickly down the steps. The teenager's hazel brown eyes connected with his, giving him an apprehensive look. The teenager was not the man's son. They were so completely contrasting in looks and colour, that they could have only been related by marriage in the family. Or adoption.

Angel thought no more about them, as he walked slowly up the steps, taking deep unneeded breaths. Looking down the list of names at the side of the front door, he saw 'Summers' neatly written next to '42'.

For a split second, he considered turning around and leaving – not bothering Buffy with his return at all. But he knew he couldn't do that. Palm sweating, he slowly lifted his fingers to the button and pressed it gently. No one replied. He waited a few moments, then pressed it again.

"Hello?" Came a voice through the intercom, a little distorted by static.

Angel recognized the voice at once, knowing it to be Buffy's. The same sweet voice he had always known, that he had heard in his head for the last fourteen years, and it filled him with fear and excitement.

"Hello?" Came the voice again, puzzled. "Hello? Wood? Is this you? Did you forget your keys again?"

He cleared his voice. "Uh, hello, Buffy." He said into the intercom.

There was a pause. Then, "Who is this?"

"Uh … I-I, um, I … t-this is Angel." He stammered.

Another pause. "Who?"

Oh god. She didn't remember him.

"I'm sorry, the intercom's been playing up all day, and I'm really not getting a word you're saying. And I'm kind of in a hurry, so I'll buzz you in, and just come in to my apartment, ok?" her voice said sputtering through the speakers.

He breathed out slowly, in relief.

"Unless you're paedophile. In which case, go away." She said. He smiled slightly, and waited for the door to open. Sure enough it did, and he walked through the front hall to the elevator.

An elderly couple was standing there waiting for it to arrive. They gave him a strange look, but ignored him. A quiet ping sounded, and a group of teenagers emerged from the elevator. Walking into it, he pressed the button for the 14th floor.

There was an uncomfortable silence as they waited for the slow elevator to reach their destinations. It was old, creaking every so often. And a musty smell that emanated from the wooden walls. "So … you just moved in?" said the old man, breaking the silence.

"Uh, no. I don't live here … I'm just visiting an old friend."

"Whose your friend?" asked the woman.

Angel frowned; he didn't see how it was any of their business, but trying to be polite, he answered, "Buffy Summers." They both threw him a disapproving look, and then looked the other way. He wondered what she'd done that had made the couple glare at him like that.

The elderly couple got out at the 9th floor. Angel sighed and leaned back against the elevator wall. He felt a familiar fluttering at the pit of his stomach as he neared the 14th floor. Fourteen: fourteen years and fourteen floors later. He chuckled to himself. It wasn't funny at all, but the quiet laughter calmed his nerves. Slightly.

The smile disappeared from his face as he stepped out the elevator, seeing apartment 42 just along the hall. He could hear his slow, plodding footsteps sounding along the wooden flooring, as he kept his eyes fixated on the door ahead. It seemed to take him forever to get there.

Maybe he should forget this. Maybe he should just leave. She was probably fine – new city, new friends, new life. She didn't need a part of her old life coming back and wrenching out suppressed memories for all to see. But, god, he had to see her. Just to see her for one minute standing there in flesh and blood to … to … remind him that she had been real. Not just a dream, a figment of his imagination. It was purely selfish on his part, but he knew he could continue on his endless life if he just saw her one more time.

He knocked at the little white door.

"Took ya a bit of time, didn't it?" she said opening the door, and he saw his little blonde slayer standing behind it. Time had been a mixed blessing for her. Her honey blonde hair had grown longer, her body was either curvier or she was wearing clothes that accented them, and her face had a more mature look. But her eyes were more serious than he remembered – having too much, experienced too much. A thin scar cut through her perfect skin just above her right eye, traveling down through her eyebrow and disappearing before her lashes.

When she saw who it was standing there, a mixture of emotions spread across her face, obviously trying to be kept at bay as her mind registered who it was. His sharp eyes immediately noticed the tears well up in hers and he fought to keep the same from happening to his own.

"Hello, Buffy." He said, quietly, searching her face.

"Angel." He couldn't ever forget the way she said his name. So different from everybody else. She said it as a whisper, so full of love and devotion, and it made his heart soar every time.

"Yeah."

"No." she said, shaking her head. "No. No way. Not now." She started walking backwards into her own apartment, wishing him not to be there. "Please, not now." She whispered.

He longed to go and comfort her. "Buffy…"

"Don't." she said, quickly. She crossed her arms, protectively, fighting to regain control. "Just … let's not do that thing where repeat each other's names for hours."

"Ok." He walked cautiously through the front door to stand in front of her.

Neither knew what to say.

"So … how have you bee- … wait, how did you just do that?" she frowned.

"Do what?"

"Come into my apartment…" A sliver of hope traveled across her face as she said, "Are you … You're not a vampire anymore?"

"Yes."

"Not a vamp?"

"No. Yes. I mean, I'm still a vampire."

"Oh."

"No, you, um, you invited me in downstairs; you said 'I'll buzz you in, and just come in to my apartment'." He smiled briefly, "It's not that easy to get rid of it."

"Oh. Well, I knew that. I just figured if you've been gone for 13 years, you might have figured out how to … get rid of it."

"14."

"Huh?"

He looked down. "I've been gone 14 years."

"Well, that makes it all ok, then." She said, sarcastically. He refused to meet her eyes. "You'd better come in."

She walked backwards down her small hallway to the sitting area. He followed her, taking in her apartment as he went. It was a nice little place with 2 bedrooms, sitting area and kitchen/dining room, decorated in a very 'Buffy' way. He could see some things he recognized from her house in Sunnydale – the weapons cabinet, the sofa from the living room.

Buffy watched him, as he glanced round her apartment, trying to sort out all her thoughts flying through her mind. '_Why now?… Thank god he's ok… What should I tell him?… How did he find me?… What happened?… What's going to happen?… I love him...'_

He sat down on the sofa, while Buffy leaned against the table opposite. "You want anything to eat? Drink?" she asked.

"No, I'm fine."

"You look awful."

"Thanks."

"No, I mean … you look awful as in injured."

"Willow said the same thing."

"Willow… She told you where I was. Didn't she?"

Angel nodded.

"So, how long have you been back?"

"Uh, well, several days ago I was in Sunnydale."

"What were you doing there?"

"Looking for you."

Something deep inside Buffy made her heart leap as his words signified that he'd gone looking for her straight away.

"Well, now you've found me." Buffy said.

"Did you want me to find you?"

Buffy didn't answer. A part of said 'yes'. She had wanted him to find her, come and sweep her off her feet and promise her everything would be ok from then on. But another part of her had also given up, thinking that she would never see him again.

"I'm sorry." He said.

"'You're sorry'. Great. That's … that's jus– … You turn up on my doorstep 14 years later, and you're first words are 'sorry'. How funny. I would laugh but …" She said, seriously.

He stood up quickly. "I don't know what els…" He winced, as he felt a burning pain at the side of his ribs.

"Got anything more inspiring to say, Angel? How about 'Let's get back together again' or 'Do you feel like going away with me this weekend'? No, Angel, you cannot just turn up here, walk into my apartment and say 'sorry'!" she said, angrily.

"I never meant it like–"

"'Sorry' is if you burnt the turkey last Thanksgiving. 'Sorry' is if you stepped on my foot.With us, it doesn– …It goes beyond 'sorry'. Way beyond."

Silence.

"God, how we going to do this?" said Buffy, sighing, looking at the ceiling.

"I don't know."

"We either shout at each other till I end up kicking you out of my apartment cursing you to hell or … or we talk." She looked at him, smiling slightly. "I think I prefer the latter."

"Me too."

She glanced at his hand which holding his side inconspicuously. A deep red colour was starting to seep and spread through his pale t-shirt. "Angel, I hate to be Miss-State's-The-Obvious, but you're bleeding!" She moved to his side, and he looked down at the cut.

"Oh. Yeah, um … I got slashed a couple of times … I tried patching myself up at Willow's. Maybe standing up too quickly wasn't a good idea." He groaned, pressing his hand to the wound.

"Look, I'll go get some more bandages. Just … take–"

"Take off my jacket and shirt. Yeah."

"Yeah." She shook herself. "Right, ok. I'll be back in a few."

Ange; watched her as she walked through the kitchen, into the bathroom and closed the door behind her. She closed her eyes and leaned against the door regaining her composure. Pulling her self together, she opened the medicine cabinet and looked for bandages. Finding what she needed, she walked back to the kitchen and saw her cell phone lying on the table.

Giles had given her the night off, so she had planned to go out that evening with a few of her friends downtown to a nearby club. It was why she was dressed up. She picked up her phone and called her friend Faith's phone.

"Where are you, B?" said Faith's annoyed voice down the phone.

"I'm still at my apartment."

"Well, hurry up. All the good quality ones are gonna be gone by the time we get there, if ya know what I mean."

"Faith, I always know what you mean." She said, sardonically. "No, um, I'm – I'm afraid I'm gonna have to cancel."

She leaned by the doorway leading into the sitting area, watching Angel take off his t-shirt, his back to her.

"Something important came up."


End file.
